Apr 14, 2005

It's not easy being Irrelephant.

It's not even easy being green anymore.

Originality. Either it's a function of there being so gosh-darned many of us or it's a product of the internet blurring all the lines and erasing all the distances, but it's darn hard being original anymore.

What brought this on, you ask? I'll tell you. This morning, getting shaved and dressed for work I heard outside the bathroom window a mockingbird, who seemed intent on going through every single call, warble and snort in his entire vocabulary. That got me to thinking--why in the world would a single bird need to sound like an entire flock of mixed fowl? I know I heard him go through at least eight different bird calls, and at least once he did a dog. I kid you not, this is the same bird that months ago sat outside my bedroom window and performed his repertoire, including a dog and a rain frog. Creepy.

So what exactly is the purpose of knowing how to immitate every single bird in the world, unless you're a geek and think it's going to help you pick up chicks. No pun intended. Do mockingbirds lie in wait in dark bushes, singing out in a hundred foreign tongues until some unlucky sparrow happens by, hears someone talking in his native Croatian and flies over to have a look, only to have the mockingbird leap out of the bush at the last second, point a wing at the distressed sparrow and shout "Hah! Got you!" and fly off?

Or are they perhaps the thugs of the avian world? Do mockingbirds call through their range of whistles and cries hoping to exhort some passing stranger, an oriole perhaps, to wander close to see what the matter is, only to be leapt upon by a black and grey stranger intent on rolling him for his watch and wallet? If this were the case I think I would be finding more small birds lying semi-conscious under the bushes, feebly patting their waists trying to find their missing bank roll.

It's not easy being original. Blogging is not original. It was original about three years ago when a young man started recording his diary online for people to share. Now it's practically as necessary as having a cellular phone number on your business card, right under your homepage address and your voicemail number. I thought that being "Irrelephant" was fairly catchy and dare I say it "unique," but then again I was wrong. Surfing back through the old archives of a message board yesterday I find that I had been posting there and never knew it. What do you know about THAT? Somehow a future me has hacked back into the past to leave clues for the past me to find, perhaps telling Past Me how to break the surly bonds of Time Itself. If so, I have to say that the future me is one empty-headed pachyderm.

So where does that leave us? Well, it leaves you having wasted a few of the precious minutes that you have left in your life. It leaves me feeling perhaps a little fuller, having left behind one more tiny mark in the sand, on the infinite beach that is Life. Perhaps it leaves a new reader to this blog shaking his or her head in bewilderment, asking themselves "So what exactly does a mockingbird have to do with elephants?"

My friend, the world isn't ready for that information yet.

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